It's History to Me
by butterflybaby91
Summary: Series of one-shots set in Modern Day (France). Les Amis are college students and they help run their school's French History Museum on the side. Well, Enjolras does, the others just get in the way. (Focusing on E/E for now, but will probably feature other characters later on). Rated M for later possibilities.
1. River on the Run--EponinexEnjolras

She hears feet pounding the pavement behind her. Eponine whirls around mid step to watch Enjolras breeze past her with a casual wave. She grumbles "Showoff," under her breath, but he was already too far away to hear her. Of course she knows Enjolras sometimes ran, she pretty much knows everything about everyone in their little family. _But gosh_, she thought, _does he have to be good at everything he does_. Eponine was known as the runner in the group. She loves everything about running. She loves feeling the wind pushing against her, sometimes almost burning her face. She loves pushing her body beyond its limits and feeling drained and sweaty, but powerful at the end of her run. She loves feeling the flames in her lungs and legs as she forces herself to do yet another mile. Running was her escape—her time to think. She could face anything—her father's torments, Marius' rejection, her struggles to make ends meet—anything as long as she could run. Preventing her from the physical activity she loves would be the worst kind of torture.

Not that she is any good at running—she plods along as she goes, and compared to Enjolras she was a snail. If it had been anyone besides Enjolras who had seen her while she was on her run she would have been slightly embarrassed. She looks _terrible_ while running. Her face is red and shiny; her hair looks ridiculous pulled into a tight pony and slightly matted from sweat. She does not have any fancy workout clothes. Usually she wears a baggy pair of old shorts she had swiped from Courfeyrac and a too big t-shirt that she thinks used to be Grantaire's.

Enjolras, of course, never looks anything less than perfect, even when he is speeding by on what had to be a long run considering the fact that he lives fairly far away from where he passes her. His face is not red, he does not look out of breath, and his perfect blond curls nicely hides sweat as they bounced softly behind him. The only way she can tell he is exerting himself at all is by the circular stain on the small of his back.

Right now though, her pride is hurt by Enjolras so clearly besting her at the only thing that is really _hers._ Even though she knows no one else saw him pass her and she knows he would never mention it to anyone. Still, she feels wounded.

She also feels ridiculously tired. She usually runs a loop from her home and back, but today she ran a little farther before turning around. Now as she is nearing her house, she sees it looming in the distance, so she slows her pace to a walk, trying to get her breathing under control and slow her racing heart. She picks her ego up and tries to forget about being outdone.

The next day, she gets to the café Musain, where their whole group tries to meet up for lunch every day, to see that the only other person there is Enjolras. Eponine still feels a twinge of embarrassment at her pathetic attempts at running—she usually boasts to her friends about how often she runs and how far, but now Enjolras will know she was stretching the truth a bit—or at least not telling the whole truth because she does run often and far, but not quickly. Even in the brief seconds it took for Enjolras to pass her surely he will have noticed how slow she was.

Reluctantly, she slides into the seat next to him. Enjolras looks over at her and smiles which she tries to return, but it ends up being more of a grimace with a slight eye roll. He does not seem to notice and goes back to reading the textbook he has situated on his lap. Eponine knows he will probably continue reading until more of their friends arrive, so she likewise pulls out some homework and starts to glance over it.

To her side, Eponine thinks she hears Enjolras say something; she looks at him questioningly and he quietly asks, "Do you always run down that road in the afternoons?"

Eponine is sure her face betrays her confusion at his question but she nods and replies, "Well I try to run when I get out of class around three most afternoons. I usually go about four miles, but yesterday I went slightly farther," she cannot help but add as she curses herself for still sounding like a braggart even after he knows she is a dreadful runner.

He does not comment on the additional information she provides and only says, "I see. That's probably good for you. It's good to exercise," he smiles and smirks, "Most of our friends probably don't exercise enough—I'd _love_ to see some of them try to run a mile, much less four"

This statement puts the image of Courfeyrac, who is good at swimming, but not good at much on land, or little Jehan, with his floral skinny jeans and braids, trying to run. Eponine chuckles and sees Enjolras smiling too. The visual makes her feel a little bit better—she could probably run circles around some of their friends. "I love it," she almost whispers, "It's the only time I get where I can just be."

Enjolras is nodding, "I completely agree with you. I don't run nearly enough, but when I do, it's such a release—a break from all the stress." Eponine is slightly shocked at Enjolras' admission. She had assumed that the boy, who has one too many majors, and is involved in more activities than there are days in the week, would be abnormally stressed out. But, except for the occasional blow up when Grantaire had pushed him too far, Enjolras always seems to handle everything remarkably well. That he had admitted to her that sometimes everything could be too much kind of scared her—she was not used to seeing him vulnerable.

Before she can respond however, more of their friends come barging into the café and Enjolras' attention is diverted, so she does not have to think of a response, which is good because, for once Eponine Thenardier is pretty sure she is at a loss for words.

That afternoon, she is leaving her house, dressed for her run, when she sees Enjolras stretching at the end of her driveway. Noting that he is also wearing running clothes, she walks up to him and when he catches her staring at him she gives him an inquisitive look, which he counters with a smile. He shrugs and tells her, "I thought we could run together today."

Eponine laughs and retorts, "Didn't you see me run yesterday?" Enjolras looks confused so she clarifies for him, "I'm slower than dirt. I would just hold you back."

He shakes his head, "You just need a training partner. Plus I don't care; it might be nice to have some company." He is smiling at her again and Eponine finds she cannot refuse him so she just bobs her head and starts running off down the road. Enjolras quickly catches up to her and they fall into a steady rhythm that has Eponine pushing herself harder than usual and probably has Enjolras holding back, but he does not complain.

That rhythm runs into a habit that sees the pair running together regularly and Eponine wonders at the marvel of how two anxious souls have been unfettered through the methodical drum of rubber on asphalt.


	2. Packages and Waiting--EponinexEnjolras

_This was inspired by a prompt from " .com" about what would one person in your ship send the other in a package. So this is modern AU where the group runs a French History museum on their college campus:_

Enjolras had been gone for close to three weeks now.

He was off in Toulouse at a month long symposium on French history—learning and collecting items for exhibits in the museum. Eponine was lonely. She had started sleeping in odd places around the apartment, because the bed, which was so hard to exit when Enjolras was in it, had turned into a mighty stranger without him. Last night, she had slept on the couch; the night before she had fallen asleep at her desk as she had struggled to edit pictures for her photography class. Truthfully, she had not gotten a good night's sleep since he had left.

Eponine had originally been supposed to go with Enjolras, but on the day they were to leave, Gavroche had come down with the flu and Eponine just could not leave her little brother to her parents' doubtful care. So, Enjolras had left and she had brought Gavroche to their apartment. The little boy had been sick for close to two weeks. It had been a scary and trying two weeks for Eponine, as she had tried to nurse him back to health. She had cried on the phone to Enjolras multiple times over those two weeks. He had tried his best to be there for her, but had been busy and distracted by all the interesting events he was going to. Thankfully, Gavroche was now healthy and back at her parents' home and Eponine was just mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. All she wanted was her lover back home and back in her arms, but his homecoming was still a week away. So, for the time being, infrequent texts and even more infrequent phone calls would have to suffice.

When Enjolras had gone on the trip alone, Eponine knew she would seldom hear from him, while he was gone. When he got to talking about French history, especially with other historians who actually cared about the subject, he could not be stopped. It was why he was so good at running the museum. She sighed as she trudged up the steps to their apartment. Eponine liked history too, although, not nearly as much as Enjolras—her real passion was photography. She had so wanted to go on the trip because Toulouse was home to the Galerie du Château d'eau, which was an excellent gallery that she had desperately wanted to visit. So now, here she was, not only greatly missing Enjolras, but also extremely bummed out over having to miss visiting the gallery. She was left to counting down the days until Enjolras returned home and then he could tell her all about his trip.

As she reached their apartment, she noticed a large box, wrapped in brown paper, sitting in front of the door. Drawing closer, Eponine recognized Enjolras' perfect scrawl on the label and saw it was addressed to her. Recalling suddenly that Enjolras had mentioned something about shipping his souvenirs home so he would not have to pack them, she grinned, her mood suddenly brightening, as she grabbed the box and dragged it inside. Setting it on the counter, she sent a quick text to Enjolras to let him know she had gotten his package. As she was retrieving a knife with which to slice the package open, her phone buzzed with Enjolras' reply. His message informed her "_Be warned—there's something for __everyone__ in there._"Now even more curious about what was inside the box, Eponine cut through the wrappings and took the lid off the box.

Her grin widened as she realized Enjolras had taken the time to carefully pick out a thoughtful souvenir for all of their friends. Each item had a label, identifying whom it was for. Eponine began taking each item out and inspecting it.

There were drawing pencils in a nice leather case for Grantaire—because all he ever wanted was drawing instruments, since the amateur artist went through them almost as fast as he went through alcohol.

There was a new book on Descartes for the philosophy obsessed Combeferre.

For Jehan, there was a prettily decorated little journal that Eponine was sure the little poet would have filled with his scribbles in less than a week.

There was a knitted beanie for Courfeyrac to add to his collection of headwear that he was continually sporting.

For Joly, there was a portable hand sanitizer case that was decorated with French flags—it was germfree and patriotic and thus perfect for the pre-med.

Bossuet likewise received patriotic first aid products, as Enjolras had gotten the clumsy giant a box of bandages that had tricolors on both the plasters and the box that held them.

For Bahorel, who enjoyed drinking almost as much as Grantaire, he had acquired a nice bottle of Toulousean whiskey.

Fueilly obtained a t-shirt to add to his endless rotation of ironic graphic tees that said "My friend went to Toulouse and all I got was this shirt". Eponine chuckled at the shirt and she imagined Fueilly would wear the shirt the next day with pride.

For Marius, Enjolras had gifted him a t-shirt from the university at which the symposium was being held, for Marius was less eccentric and more sensible than the others and would enjoy something for simple like that. Eponine could picture him wearing it around on Saturday mornings as sipped coffee and read his business newspaper.

Enjolras had even remembered to get chocolate for Gavroche. Chocolate to Gavroche was like drawing pencils to Grantaire—everyone always got her brother the sugary treat, no matter where they went and he loved all the older boys for it.

Eponine smiled at the assortment of gifts splayed out on the countertop, amazed by how well Enjolras knew his friends. He was always best at showing how much he cared with little gestures like this.

Reaching into the box to pull out the last item, which she assumed and hoped, was for her, Eponine gasped as she found a very thick book that appeared to be all about the gallery that she had not been able to go to. She sank to the kitchen floor, leaning against the cabinets as she thumbed through the book. Her jaw dropped in amazement at the pictures of the stunning photographs that the gallery housed. Opening up to the front cover, Eponine noticed that Enjolras had written an inscription. As she read it, tears pricked her eyes—it made her all at once fall more in love with the man who had sent her the book and hate him for the fact that he had not given it to her in person, so she could throw her arms around him and show him how much she truly loved him. The inscription read:

_Dear Eponine, I'm sorry you had to miss the trip and seeing the gallery. I know the last few weeks have been hard—they've been hard for me too. I miss you terribly and am counting down the days, hours, and minutes, until we will be together once again. The gallery was beautiful. You would have loved it. I promise to take you there sometime. For now though, this book will have to suffice. I will see you very soon mon cherie. Avec tout mon amour, Enjolras_

Closing her new favorite book with a forlorn sigh, Eponine hoisted herself into a standing position, by pulling on the countertop. Still clutching the book, she grabbed her phone and went off to call Enjolras, reminding herself that they were one day closer to being reunited. 


	3. The One With the TV Show--EponinexEnjolr

"What are you watching?" Enjolras asked as he came into his flat to find Eponine mid laugh as she lay spread out on the couch watching the television.

Eponine chuckled again and briefly glanced at Enjolras, "_Friends_," she said before turning her attention back to her show.

"_Friends_?" Enjolras asked, "What's that?" At his question, Eponine turned to him with a look of horror.

Her hand reached out and grabbed the remote sitting on the coffee table, raising it up to pause the show and turned to him, "You've never heard of _Friends_?"

Enjolras shook his head, perplexed at her shocked expression—over the course of their friendship he thought it had become obvious that he was not as absorbed in popular culture as most people.

"How have you never heard of _Friends_?" Eponine repeated, standing, and moving toward Enjolras in a rather menacing fashion as she clutched the remote in both hands, wringing it like she was pretending it was his neck that she was strangling for his lack of cultural knowledge.

Enjolras eyed the remote warily, "There are lots of things I've never heard of Eponine—I've told you, I was much more interested in reading as a child and teenager—I never had time for television shows or movies or anything like that," he stated matter-of-factly as he swung his messenger bag onto the kitchen table and began rooting through it.

He stopped when he felt Eponine pressing into his elbow. Turning he saw her still clutching the remote and staring at him in fascination, "Yes?" he said, "Can I _help_ you?" he smiled at the crazed girl.

"How can you call yourself a human being if you've never heard of _Friends_?" she repeated for a third time.

Enjolras sighed, knowing she was not going to let this go until she showed him whatever _Friends_ was, "Apparently I'm not human," he smirked, "But I thought we already knew that?" he teased as he ruffled Eponine's messy dark curls causing her to grimace as she grabbed his hand and pull him toward the couch.

"Well we're going to rectify that now," she informed him as she plopped down on the couch next to him and snuggled up into his side. "It's only the best show that ever was," she said un-pausing the show.

Enjolras kissed the top of Eponine's head, "We'll see," he replied as he pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and covered them up with it.

She shook her head, "You don't get to have a bad opinion about this-it's an undisputed fact."

He chuckled, "Okay, then be quiet so I can see what all the fuss is about," he relented and turned his attention to the television.

Six hours later Enjolras woke up to find himself laying down on the couch facing the television that was stuck on the menu of the last _Friends _DVD they had popped into the DVD player before falling asleep. He went to move to turn off the television, but found he was pinned down to the sofa by a thin arm thrown over his waist.

Eponine was lying next to him, squished uncomfortably between the back of the couch and him. She looked so peaceful in her sleep, all the pain and stress she carried around in the daylight erased in slumber. He shifted to give her more room—she mumbled and gripped Enjolras more tightly to her. Not being able to reach the remote without disturbing her, he just ignored the repeating theme song coming from the television and focused on trying to go back to sleep. When, he wrapped his arms around Eponine to try and help them fit on the couch better, Enjolras found his head buried in her hair and he could not help but breath in the sweet vanilla scent of her hair. As he was drifting off, with the petite girl tucked so perfectly in his arms, he thought to himself how _Friends_ really was a great show.


	4. Lonely Nights & Awkward Mornings-Eponine

**Same AU – earlier than the other one-shots:**

You usually spend Friday nights with Marius. But ever since he met Cosette, he has been blowing you off and your Friday nights have involved you sitting alone in your apartment, solo drinking (which is _never_ a good thing), watching Disney movies, and eating s'mores made in your microwave. And it's getting fucking lonely.

This Friday was no different than the last several. You get a text from Marius around 5 p.m.

_Sorry to leave you hanging again 'Ponine, but Cosette just invited me to have dinner with her and her father and I just can't say no to that—her father will hate me regardless_

You had not expected anything less than a dismissal this evening, but it still hurts as you respond:

_No problem. Hey why don't we just consider our usual Friday nights cancelled from here on out—I know you'd rather be hanging out with Cosette during your free time and I don't blame you _

His reply is quick and painful:

_But then when am I supposed to have my 'Ponine time? Don't worry I promise I will be able to make it one of these weeks_.

Was he trying to rip your heart out?

With a scream you throw your phone across the room, not even caring that it smashes into the wall and falls to the ground with a worrisome thud. It is probably broken, but what do you care—Marius might not be able to get a hold of you anymore that way.

Tears start falling down your cheeks as you sit there thinking about how lonely you are and how you would kill to be in Cosette's place. But what are you kidding? You will never be Cosette, with her perfect hair and perfect clothes and perfect everything.

But thinking about Cosette makes your sick to your stomach. So you end up grabbing the bottle of vodka and a mug and pouring yourself a big cup of the vile stuff. You are wincing at every sip, but halfway through your mug's worth of liquor it stops tasting bad and you stop feeling bad.

After that, one thing leads to another and you end up crying downstairs on Grantaire's door frame as you knock loud enough to wake the dead, or at least the neighbors. He opens after a while and he looks quite out of it himself. But when he sees you standing there, obviously drunk and crying, you are in his arms in a flash. He is rubbing your back and murmuring smoothing things as he pulls you into his apartment and onto his couch.

"Hey there," he mumbles, trying to be there for you even though he is barely there himself, "What's wrong?"

All you have to do is sputter, "Marius," and he just gripes you tighter.

"Is a bastard," he tacks onto your statement and you choke out a laugh through your tears, "Come on let's watch a movie," he says as he pulls you into his lap and turns you around so you can face the television. He does not bother getting up to put in a disc, but just sees what is playing on television.

After settling on some crappy made-for-TV movie you both settle into each other with your head pressed up against his chest, tucked under his chin, and his arms snuggly around you. The smell of alcohol emanating off both your breaths' is intense and would overpower anyone else, but both of you can handle alcohol pretty well.

Not tonight though. You were both pretty wasted before you got here and now Grantaire is still sipping out of a bottle of rum and sharing it with you, so it is not completely surprising that in a half an hour, the movie is forgotten and your are lying under him on the couch with his lips attacking yours.

It is as he is picking you up to take you to his bedroom that he somehow finds the forethought to ask, as you wrap your legs around his waist, barely breaking contact with your lips, "Is this okay?"

You nod furiously against his lips. You are too drunk to really care and it is _Grantaire_ so it won't be too weird in the morning—plus you just want to forget. Apparently your nod is enough to convince him that this may be a good idea because the next thing you know you are both laying on his bed and clothes are being peeled off and big and small hands are mingling together on bare skin. He whispers your name several times throughout and it is nice to feel wanted for once, you think as you fall asleep afterwards, tangled in his arms, warm and comfortable.

The sun streaming in through the window in the morning is what wakes you. Groaning, you turn over to blindly grope for the bottle of aspirin that you keep on the table next to your bed just for mornings like this. Your eyes are startled open when you do not find the table next to your bed and instead your hand connects with warm flesh. Finding Grantaire lying next to you and finding yourself in his bed, and worse, naked, you scream, which of course wakes him.

"What is it? Who's there?" He yells leaping out of bed and punching the air around him without opening his eyes. When his fists do not connect with anything, he stops and opens his eyes blearily looking around. He jumps a little when he sees you lying in his bed, face bright red, but then his face matches yours as realization hits him. "Oh," he stutters, "We…" he trails off looking at you sheepishly.

"Yeah…" You groan, "Sorry 'bout screaming, I was just startled," you apologize, "To be fair, I still don't really remember how this," you gesture from him back to the bed, "happened."

He is shaking his head, "I don't really either, sorry. I do remember it though, now" he is grinning now and you groan again.

"It didn't mean anything okay? We were just both drunk," you half yell as you climb out of the bed and start searching for your clothes.

As you are pulling on your pants he comes up behind you and whispers in your ear, "Keep telling yourself that mon Cherie," as he plants a kiss on the side of your neck.

You jump and turn to see him grinning wickedly at you, "I'm leaving," you declare as you move away from him toward the door. When you are practically in the hallway you stop and look back in his direction, "Thanks though," you say and then hurriedly add, "Not for this," you nod once again toward the bed, "But for letting me cry here and yeah everything…" you let your voice fall off and then spin around and head down the hallway, "See you later!" you yell, trying to be nonchalant as you leave and praying that he never mentions this again.


	5. Swimming Along--JehanxCourfeyrac

**This was originally posted as a stand-alone one-shot here on FanFiction, but it actually belongs to this same story line. It is based on this head canon I have of Courfeyrac being a swimmer:**

The humid air is already suffocating. Jehan takes a deep breath as the heat hits him. He _hates_ pools. Well he hates indoor pools. He loves pools in the summer with the sun beating down and being able to lounge in the water and feel refreshed and renewed after he had enough of the heat. But indoor pools—they were gross. Jehan hates being _too_ anything. He was certainly not going to enjoy the next hours spent inside the spectator area of the swimming pool.

He had just stepped inside and he is already sweating. Maybe wearing his usual thick sweater and skinny jeans had not been a great idea, but Jehan had not thought of that earlier. And it is the middle of January, so it is cold outside, but hot inside, and this made dressing for the swim meet difficult. He knew Joly would be having a fit if he were here—worrying about sweating profusely inside and having to face the blistering cold afterwards—but Jehan was not worried about getting ill, he just hates being uncomfortable.

But how could he have refused Courf when he had looked at him with big puppy dog eyes, pleading with him to come to his swim meet. Jehan had never been to one of his swim meets before and he felt guilty about that, so he finally relented and allowed himself to be talked into going.

Adjusting to the stifling air, he makes his way into the stands, weaving in between the masses of people to try and find a seat.

When he is settled, he begins searching the pool deck, looking for Courf. He finds him standing in the midst of a horde of swimmer girls all of whom appear to be flirting with him. Who wouldn't be? Jehan takes in a sharp breath as he sees Courf standing on the deck in his swim suit—in only his swim suit. The stretchy material clings just so to his thighs, toned from hours at practice. He has a cap and goggles shoved into the waist band of his suit and his skin is slick with the water that remains from his warm-up. Even from across the pool Jehan can clearly see his defined abs and chest muscles. He can feel his face, already flushed from the warm air; starts to get hotter as he examines his friend. He tears his eyes away from his body to look at his face. Courf is smirking at something one of the girls talking to him has said and his eyes are dancing with amusement. His dark curls are sopping and sagging down onto his face. He pushes them out his eyes every few seconds.

Jehan feels his stomach sink as Courf gets extra flirty with a petite blonde who is practically hanging onto his arm. He knew he should not have come. He does not need to see Courf flirting with every other swimmer on the deck for the next couple hours.

He is not sure exactly what he is to Courf—but he thinks he means something to the swimmer. Or at least he thought he did. That is why he had come in the first place. Lately, they spent all their free time together, hanging out, doing homework, talking, and watching crappy television shows. There had been several, usually drunken instances, of kisses and touching, but nothing that had ever been talked about, which left Jehan unsure of his place in Courf's eyes, but he had thought he meant _something_ to the other boy. Jehan knew Courf meant much more than something to him and he could not sit there and watch him charm pretty little girls in extra tight swim suits all afternoon. He decides to try and sneak out without Courf ever knowing he actually had showed up in the first place.

As he is standing to go though, Courf sees him and Jehan's stomach begins doing flips when he sees his eyes light up. Courf pushes the girls surrounding him out of the way, and then moves toward the stands, waving at Jehan as he does. Jehan feels his heart begin to race as he walks to the rail to meet with the handsome, dripping wet, boy who is smiling so hugely now, it appears his happiness at seeing Jehan could fill the entire pool.

Grasping his hand as he reaches the rail, Courf beams, "You came!"

Jehan blushes at the excitement in Courf's voice and the fact that their hands have not broken apart, "Yes of course. I said I would," he uses his free hand to tug on the collar of his sweater telling Courf, "It's really hot in here; I don't know how you stand it."

Courf smiles cunningly at him before reminding him, "Well I am in a swim suit and all wet—so I don't really feel the heat," he lets go of Jehan's hand as Jehan's blush deepens, "Make sure you cheer for me! I'm swimming the 200 back and 200 breast. I'll be able to hear you," he told him, giving Jehan an even bigger smile and winking as he struts off down the side of the pool like it was a runway.

Feeling a little shell-shocked, Jehan just stands by the rail for a minute or two after Courf walks away. He watches him rejoin his teammates and then Jehan realizes he should go sit down if he was going to stay after all. And after that exchange, of course he is going to stay. He turns around to reclaim his seat, but other people have taken over the spot where he was sitting, so he trudges down the stands to find a new spot.

His eyes remain glued to Courf—the boy looks like he is in his element—hanging around the pool, cheering on his teammates. Jehan has always thought that Courf was so confident and self assured, but those qualities are magnified at the swim meet.

When Courf's first event comes up, Jehan stands at his seat in order to get a better view. He watches as Courf glides through the water. He makes it look so easy, like he's barely trying. Jehan, who usually never raises his voice, finds himself cheering the loudest of anyone else in the stands. He screams himself hoarse as Courf slams into the wall for the last time. He wins the race, effortlessly. As he gets out of the pool he looks toward Jehan, makes a fist pumping motion, and blows Jehan a kiss. Jehan feels his cheeks get red again, but he gives the other boy a thumbs up and a big smile.

Jehan cheers just as enthusiastically for, and Courf does just as well in his second event and then the meet is over. Courf waves at Jehan and motions that he should meet him outside of the locker room. Jehan nods in understanding and then watches Courf head into the locker room before going to find his way to the outside door.

He is leaning against the wall in the hallway when Courf emerges in the middle of a loud group of swimmer boys. Jehan feels his heart skip a beat at the glowing smiling Courf gives him as he spots Jehan. He breaks away from his teammates and runs over and scoops the smaller man up in his arms.

As Courf is squeezing him tightly, Jehan tells him that he did really well in his events. Then, Courf breaks away and smiles at Jehan before thanking him for coming. "I'm really glad you were here," he adds as he takes Jehan's hand.

Some of his teammates are shouting down the hallway at Courf trying to get him to go out for food with them. He looks at Jehan, raising an eyebrow in silent question as to whether he wants to go. Jehan shrugs—he does not really want to, he would rather be alone with Courf, but he will go if the other boy wants to. Courf seems to sense his reluctance, and shakes his head at his teammates and they wave at him and disappear down the hallway.

"Come on, let's go get some pizza," Courf tells him, tugging him down the hall.

Jehan squeezes his hand and smiles—he is still not really sure what this thing with Courf is, but he somehow knows that this is where he belongs.


	6. He Will Never Feel This Way

"Is it possible for you two to keep your hands off of each other?" Enjolras growled as he walked past Marius' desk to find him sitting there with Cosette in his lap, yet again, as the two frantically kissed each other. They broke apart as Enjolras passed, red faced and embarrassed looking.

"Sorry Enj," Cosette trilled hoping off Marius' lap and moving to sit in a chair on the other side of his desk as her boyfriend turned back to his work.

Enjolras just shook his head as he continued back to his desk to work on the letters and applications that needed to be spent today regarding possible exhibits that Dr. Lamarque wanted to obtain for the museum.

Sometimes he wished his friends would take running the _L'histoire du Musée personnes_ more seriously. During their sophomore year of college they had gained various roles in the management of the museum that was located on their university's campus. It was not supposed to be student run, but during that year the budget for the museum had fallen through, and Dr. Lamarque, who was as desperate as Enjolras was to preserve the historical artifacts and the educational experience of the museum, despite its lack of popularity, had arranged for the group of friends to run it in exchange for school credit.

Enjolras had managed to convince his friends that it was a good idea and had organized the management of the museum according to his friends' various strengths. For the most part, everything had gone smoothly. Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac were by far the most committed to the organization. Everyone else did their jobs, for the most part, but they liked to have too much fun along the way, in Enjolras' opinion. Enjolras took on the most work out of the group as he was in charge of curating the exhibits that the museum housed and contacting various outside organizations to get traveling exhibits to come to their school, as well as staying on his friends' toes to make sure everything else got taken care of. Combeferre assisted him and kept him sane. In addition, he was also responsible for keeping record of the museums' activities. Courfeyrac, along with Jehan, was mainly in charge of public relations, but he would help where ever else he was needed. Marius, as the lone business major in the group, was supposed to be in charge of the museum's finances, but for the last several months he had been thoroughly distracted by his new girlfriend, Cosette. Enjolras had no grudge against Cosette herself, she was nice enough, but the way she was constantly in the museum's offices and constantly taking Marius' from his work was getting on his nerves.

As he sat down at his desk, he glanced across the room where Eponine sat, diligently working with her eyes glued to the computer. Eponine was in charge of marketing the museum, she mainly worked at trying to attract the university's students to come to the exhibits, but she rarely focused all her attention on her work. Usually she would have annoying rock music playing a bit too loudly from a stereo behind her desk and she would constantly be checking her phone. But today her work area was strangely silent and the only time she looked away from her computer was to glance angrily toward Marius' desk.

Now that he thought about it, Enjolras realized that for the last few weeks the office had been rather silent. He had grown accustomed to the music that Eponine would play, but it had taken him a while to notice its absence. He studied the small dark-haired girl, who was dressed comfortably in a large navy sweater and leggings, as she chewed on the tip of her hair and typed furiously away at her computer. As he watched her, she glanced up and met his gaze and he saw that her poignant eyes were filled with unspeakable sadness—he felt his heart wrench at her expression. She looked away from him and glanced toward Marius and Cosette again and he saw her face crumpled as she turned determinedly back to her work.

He was slightly confused about what was going on. As much as he loved his friends, he was not always observant of the subtle emotional interactions that went on in the group. Then, he remembered something that he had heard Combeferre and Courfeyrac discussing awhile ago about Eponine and Marius. From what he recalled, Eponine liked Marius and Marius was completely oblivious. If that was what was going on, then the situation in front of him made sense—it also made Marius look like a complete ass.

He watched this go on for a while longer. For some reason, he wanted to intervene and stop the pain Eponine was in, but he could not figure out how he could distract her without being too obvious about it. Since they were the only four in the office at the moment, there was no one else he could enlist in that endeavor either.

For once, he felt powerless as he sat at his desk busting out letters and applications furiously. Finally, after what felt like a decade, Marius called over to Enjolras, "Hey Enj, I finished those grant proposals and I'm heading out for the day, see you later," Enjolras looked up and gave a nod of acknowledgement to both Marius and Cosette as they headed for the door. Marius also waved to Eponine, "Bye 'Ponine, see you both tomorrow!" he called as the couple left the office.

Enjolras turned to see that Eponine barley turned her head away from her computer, but flicked her hand up and in the direction of the departing pair. When the door slammed shut, Eponine let her head fall to the desktop and Enjolras heard a quiet sob fall from her lips.

He felt like now might be the right time to intervene and offer some form of comfort, as a friend. Sighing, he stood and made his way over to her workspace. She still had not raised her head. He reached out and laid his hand gently on her shoulder, "Are you okay Eponine?" he asked quietly as he leaned against her desk.

She looked up at him angrily, tears glistening in her eyes, "Do you think I'm okay Enjolras?" she retorted bitterly, "I have to sit here and watch that," she gestured toward Marius' now empty desk, "happen and he still acts like he's as blind as a bat to the fact that I feel anything towards him."

He reached out and began rubbing her back gently, "I know, I know. I'm sorry. I can kick them out next time if you want?"

Eponine shook her head crossly and then she sighed, "Look at them—they're meant for each other—I have to get used to it sooner or later," she said sullenly.

As she made that pronouncement Enjolras saw all the light go out of Eponine's eyes and she just looked dead and defeated. It made his stomach churn to think that Marius had that much power over her. "You're so much better than him Eponine," she scoffed at him, but a small smile touched her lips even if it did not touch her eyes, "He doesn't even deserve to be in the same room as you."

"Thanks," she muttered as if she did not really believe him.

"Stand up," he urged her pulling on her hand. She did what he asked and he pulled her into his arms. He felt a little better when her tense body relaxed into his embrace and she hugged him back, "We're all here for you, if you ever need to talk—all you have to do is ask," he assured her. After a few minutes she pulled away and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Smiling up at him, with a real smile this time, she sat back down at her desk and turned to switch her stereo on.

Returning to his own desk, Enjolras found that he was much more focused with the welcome return of the hideous rock music that resonated from across the room.


	7. Knit Hats & Progress

_A/N – So all of these one-shots are in no particular order; I'm just writing stuff as I have random ideas. I might put them in order one day, but for now they are a bit confusing, sorry!_

Joly was forever bugging Courfeyrac about the fact that he ran around half the time with wet hair. The whole group was together, hanging out in the offices of the museum. Only Enjolras was working—bent over his desk and tuning them out as he scribbled furiously over some application or other. Everyone else was goofing off and blooming off steam after a hard week. Courfeyrac had just come from swim practice, so he was dressed unusually casual, wearing only a baggy pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. His thick curly hair was dripping down his back as he had not even bothered to dry off before changing after practice, much less taken the time to sop the water out of his sponge of a head.

He had been much too anxious to see his friends, and especially Jehan. He looked at the little poet with the long blond hair who was perched on the edge of the chair next to him, sitting so close to him that their thighs were touching even though they were on different chairs. He smiled at his smaller friend and reached down to grab his hand.

Jehan and Courfeyrac had been inseparable over the past couple weeks. Every night was spent either in one of their apartments, the library, or hanging out with all their friends. They had watched too many movies and stupid televisions shows to count and Courfeyrac was sure neither of them had remembered any of them. He knew the only thing he remembered out of most of those nights was snuggling up next to Jehan on the couch or quietly in a corner like they were now and just being with him. The poet had captivated him from the moment they had met at the end of their freshman year. They had been introduced through Marius and Grantaire who had become friends and were Courf and Jehan's roommates, respectively. Those two had met through Enjolras somehow and one night they had all ended up together at dinner. Courfeyrac remembered how he had sat across from Jehan and practically stared at him the whole night. Jehan had had on some ridiculous combination of bright purple skinny jeans with a bright green and orange polka dot sweater along with yellow high-tops. His long hair had been braided and adorned with flowers and he had sat there blushing the entire night under Courfeyrac's scrutiny. Courfeyrac was usually a sharp dresser himself, but as he looked at the man across from him he thought that his ensemble was perfect.

They had become fast friends after that night, but it was not until recently, now halfway through their sophomore year, that they had somehow progressed past friendship without actually forging a relationship. They had not talked about anything. But they would hold hands, snuggle, and even kiss occasionally. Courfeyrac was pretty sure Jehan liked him, but for some reason they had never talked about it and that did not feel right. Courfeyrac felt that Jehan was too special for just this casual flirtatious thing—even though that's how Courfeyrac would usually go about beginning a relationship, if he bothered to be in a relationship at all.

But he wanted a relationship with Jehan. He wanted consistency and normalcy and he wanted to do everything right with him. Courfeyrac was planning on talking to him about it tonight—that was why he had rushed here—but now Joly was practically in his face telling him all about how he was going to get pneumonia and die if he kept walking about with wet hair after swim practice.

At first he had laughed at his hypochondriac friend, but now he just wanted him to go away so he could have Jehan to himself. Reaching into his bag, Courfeyrac pulled out a blue knit beanie and yanked it down over his still drying hair, "Fine, are you happy?" he interrupted Joly, pointing to his head indicating that he was now forever protected from pneumonia.

Joly huffed, "Your hair is still dripping, but that will help," he iterated before giving up the fight and walking away to pout next to Bossuet about how all of their friends were going to die from unspeakable illnesses.

Courfeyrac turned to Jehan who had laid his head on Courfeyrac's shoulder and was lazily tracing patterns on his arm, "Wanna get out of here?" he muttered under his breath. Jehan lifted his head and nodded at Courfeyrac looking at him wide-eyed with excitement, "Come on then," Courfeyrac pleaded, pulling his friend after him as they sneaked out the back door of the office.

They meander their way down the street, still hand in hand, for a while. Courfeyrac was working up the nerve to try and tell Jehan what he had been feeling and he could not understand why he found this so hard. Usually he was great at feelings and expressing himself, but with Jehan, he just wanted to say all the right things and he could not figure out exactly what they were.

It was Jehan, who stopped, after they had walked probably five blocks in the opposite direction of their flats, and looked up at him and asked, "What is this?"

Courfeyrac was slightly startled, but he wanted to make sure he was not misinterpreting so he just replied with a sly, "What do you mean? We're taking a walk…," letting his voice trail off into a puff of air hanging there in the cold night air as he realized how stupid that sounded.

Jehan was shaking his head before Courfeyrac could even finish speaking. He raised their still joined hands and shook them back and forth lightly between the two boys, "No, this—us—what is that?" he iterated more forcefully.

"Oh," Courfeyrac breathed, still not sure what to say as he spluttered onward, "Well, um, that's kind of what I wanted to talk about tonight," he paused and went to run a nervous hand through his hair but was stopped by the blasted hat Joly had made him wear, "You see—I really like you—like a lot and," but before he could finish what he was saying, Jehan had pressed himself up against Courfeyrac and was kissing him with much more intensity than their previously shared drunken pecks had contained.

Courfeyrac responded, instantly, pouring all the emotion he so wanted to express in words, but was struggling to, into that kiss. He ghosted his hands over the smaller man's arms and back before settling them at his waist, fisting into his thick sweater and clenching Jehan to him. Jehan had dislodged Courfeyrac's hat and was gripping his now freezing curls. When they broke apart, Jehan did not move away but leaned up so that his lips were right underneath Courfeyrac's ear, as he whispered, "I really like you too Courf."

Courfeyrac grinned at him and he thought somehow, even though he had not been able to say half of what he wanted to, it was still a perfect moment, as he looked at the beautiful man smiling up at him and leaning in for another kiss.


	8. The Night that Ends at Last (part 1)

_There will be more parts to this story line coming soon!_

"Hide me! Don't let her find me!" Eponine screeched as she came flying into Marius' room and threw herself into his closet, slamming the door behind her.

A second later, Cosette ran in after Eponine and breathlessly demanded from Marius, "Where is she?" He wordlessly pointed to the closet and Cosette immediately advanced on the closed door. She started knocking and pleading with Eponine, "Come on Eponine! It's just _shopping_!"

Marius started laughing once he realized what was going on, but stopped abruptly when Cosette turned to glare at him as Eponine yelled, "No!"

"Please Eponine! It'll be fun!" Cosette countered as she started tugging on the door that Eponine was somehow holding shut from the inside.

Eponine laughed darkly, "Like hell it'll be," she sneered.

Cosette stopped tugging on the door and sighed, "I promise to let you pick out your own dress, but you _have_ to have something new to wear to the party next week!" At Cosette's mention of dresses, Marius recalled the donor party for the museum that Courfeyrac had been organizing for weeks. They were all supposed to go and look nice and try to get alumni to donate money to help fund the museum. Marius felt grateful that he was a guy and had it easy—his suit that he had brought from home the week before was hanging in his closet all ready to go.

That same closet door was now slowly opening as Eponine finally relented and peered around the half opened door at Cosette, "Alright," she groaned, "If you're determined to kill me."

Cosette giggled and grabbed her hand, "You're so dramatic. It'll be fine." Turning to Marius she said, "We're going to the mall; we'll be gone a couple of hours, see you later tonight!" She then leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek and skipped out of the room.

Marius waved after her, but he had to laugh as Eponine turned to him as she was whisked out of the room and mouthed, "Save me!" Marius just shook his head—there was no way he was risking his own neck to get in the middle of this.

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If Eponine was being honest, she had to admit that shopping with Cosette was really not that bad. They had gone to several stores that were much more Cosette's style than Eponine's and Eponine had watched while Cosette tried on a slew of dresses.

Eponine had not even bothered trying anything on in the stores that Cosette picked to go to—one look at the price tags on one of the dresses and Eponine had blanched—they were way, _way_ out of her price range. The dress Cosette picked out though was beautiful and suited her perfectly. It was a navy blue, lace sheath dress that hugged her body and dipped down a little in the back. The hem was decorated with bits of lace that overhung the lining and the sleeves were fluttery cap sleeves that were made out of the same lace that covered the rest of the dress. It looked great on her and Eponine only felt the smallest pang of jealously when she thought about how Marius was going to love that dress on Cosette.

It had been hard for Eponine to continue hating Cosette after Marius and she had gotten together. Eponine had originally met Cosette at the beginning of freshman year when they were both in the nursing school, before Cosette had transferred to the literature major. She had immediately disliked the preppy, blonde girl who seemed to have the perfect everything and had immediately made hordes of friends, even if Eponine realized that many of those friends did not really care about Cosette herself, but were only drawn to her because she was pretty and rich.

Eponine had grown even more annoyed with the girl after one day in a biology lab, where they were dissecting something or other and Cosette and passed out flat on the floor. Eponine had judged her queasiness to be a sign of weakness and had almost laughed at the girl as others had crowded around and rushed her to the student health center. Cosette, who had determined that if she could not handle a little animal blood there, was so way she would be able to handle working in a hospital, had transferred majors the very next day.

However, once Cosette had started dating Marius, she had made an honest effort to befriend Eponine, knowing how good a friends Marius and Eponine were. At first, Eponine had resisted and been downright cruel to the girl. Marius had, of course, been mostly oblivious to Eponine's cruelty, but the other boys were not. One night they had sat her down and talked with her to try and make her see reason. From that night, Eponine had, little by little, started to spend more time with Cosette and she had to admit, it was nice to spend some time with another girl for once.

She had also slowly started to realize that Marius would never look at her the way he looked at Cosette and that her feelings for Marius, were really more of an obsession than actual love. They were not like the feelings that she had experienced the day that _other_ boy had tried to comfort her after Marius and Cosette had a particularly PDA filled afternoon. But, she was trying not to think about those new inklings of butterflies. And she was in no way only looking at red dresses right now, just because she knew that was _his_ favorite color.

The girls had moved onto a store that was more in Eponine's style and price range and she found herself immediately drawn to the rack of red dresses at the corner of the store. Usually her preferred color was purple and she was willing herself to abandon the red dress to find a purple dress, but something about one a-line, tomato color dress, that she found just spoke to her. The dress was rather plain, but it had a black belt at the waist with small studs, three-quarter length sleeves, and small slit up the back. When she tried it on, it looked great on her and Eponine mentally cursed herself when she immediately thought that maybe _he_ would like the dress.

_I don't care what he thinks—I don't care what anyone thinks_, she repeated to herself over and over again. Never the less, she found herself in line, paying for the dress. When she showed it to Cosette later, as they sat in the food court eating an early dinner, Cosette raised an eyebrow, but did not say anything more than that she thought it would look nice on Eponine and red really did suit her didn't it?

Eponine blushed, but just nodded and hurriedly sucked on the straw of her drink so she would not have to respond.

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The next Saturday, Marius and Grantaire were waiting impatiently in the living room of Cosette's apartment as the girls finished getting ready for the party. Well, Marius was impatient—he kept looking at his watch as they were just barely going to make it on time at this rate, but Grantaire was unconcerned. He had planted himself on the couch and every few minutes he was taking sips out of a flask that he had concealed in his jacket. Grantaire was accompanying Eponine to the party and Marius was driving the four over to the banquet hall where the party was being held.

Sighing, Marius ventured half-way down the hall and called toward Cosette's closed door, "Cosette, are you guys almost ready?"

When heard Cosette bark an impatient "Yes!" Marius slinked back to the living room and sat down on the couch next to Grantaire.

"Hopefully, they'll be ready soon," he said, "We have to leave."

Grantaire chuckled and threw his arm around Marius' shoulders, "Calm down, we'll get there on time. If not Courfeyrac will survive."

Marius sighed again in frustration. If it was anyone but Cosette making them late, he would be madder—he hated being late to events—but he just could not get mad at Cosette.

Just then, they heard the slide of the bedroom door moving against the carpet and Cosette and Eponine walked out into the hallway. Both boys jumped up to see them. Marius felt his jaw drop—Cosette looked beautiful. The navy blue of her dress suited her perfectly and showed off her blonde hair and blue eyes. She waltzed up to him and kiss him on the cheek, "Sorry for being late," she whispered in his ear.

Marius just shook his head, "Its fine," he replied before he encircled his arms around her waist and pulled her close, "You look beautiful," he told her and she beamed at him.

"What about Eponine?" she asked turning in his arms toward where Eponine stood next to Grantaire. Marius raised his head to look at her and he had to admit Eponine looked very nice too. He was not used to seeing Eponine in dresses and wearing makeup, so it was kind of a shock to see her all dressed up.

"You looked beautiful too Eponine," he smirked, "You clean up nice."

Eponine blushed and muttered, "Thanks," and then she turned to grab her coat off the rack by the door, "Come on you love birds; let's get going," she teased as she lead the way out of the apartment.


	9. The Night that Ends at Last (part 2)

When they reached the museum, the group was attacked by an exasperated Courfeyrac who yelled quite loudly as they entered the back door, "You're late! I don't have enough people here socializing with potential patrons so you four need to go out there and get us donations!" With that Courfeyrac spun on his heels and raced back into the museum, an anxious Jehan right behind him, trying to calm Courfeyrac down.

Grantaire chuckled and bowed to Eponine, "Well my lady, should we join the festivities?"

She laughed and took his offered hand, "Thank you, sir, that sounds lovely," she replied in a faux-haughty voice and they glided into the party with Cosette and Marius following.

Eponine gawked as they entered the room—Courfeyrac had out done himself. The walls were all draped in shimmery-wispy material that shimmered in the low lighting. There were fancy silver light fixtures in the shape of globes hanging low from the ceiling and they cast a soft warm glow throughout the room. There were strategically placed cocktail tables set up around the room that patrons hovered around as waiters milled about with platters of hour'devours. There was even a quartet playing softly in the corner of the room. Everyone was dressed to the nines and Eponine had a bit of a self-conscious moment as she glanced down at her cheap dress masquerading as fancy party attire, before Grantaire whisked her away to the side of the room where several couples were dancing. It was as if he knew she was beginning to doubt herself and he interrupted those doubts before they could grow as he whispered in her ear, "You really do look beautiful."

All she could do was smile at him—she was grateful to have such an amazing friend as Grantaire—before she scoffed lightly and just shook her head as if to say he was being ridiculous.

They had only been dancing for a few minutes before they saw a frazzled Courfeyrac charging toward them, "Look out here comes the charging rhino," Eponine chuckled at her own warning as Grantaire glanced up and spotted Courfeyrac.

He promptly dropped his hands from Eponine's waist and muttered, "Guess we better go be social or something." He mockingly bowed to Eponine again and took off before Courfeyrac could reach him. She saw him slinking toward the bar and she knew he would not be socializing at all as he accepted a beer from the bartender and went to hide in a corner out of Courfeyrac's line of vision.

Eponine let out a resigned sigh and turned to face Courfeyrac, "Eponine," he addressed her through gritted teeth. Courfeyrac was usually a very agreeable person, but something about the weeks and stress involved in party planning, combined with his slight perfectionist street, always brought out the worst in him. "Let me introduce you to Madame Richelieu, her husband is on the board of trustees for the university," he informed her as he steered her toward a slim middle aged woman in a green evening gown. As they approached, Courfeyrac slipped right back into his normally friendly, charming self, as he introduced Madame Richelieu to Eponine, and Eponine began telling her all about the museum and her role there.

Eponine _hated_ fundraising parties. She hated having to be nice and social to rich snooty people just to try and get money to keep the museum opened. She always felt so out of place in this crowd. She was not from a good family or monetary situation like many of her friends were and she always felt like these patrons were able to sense that somehow, like they were looking down on her the whole time she was talking to them, seeing the poor little girl in ratty second hand clothes whose parents had forgotten to bath her for weeks at a time. Years later, even though she was clean, dressed respectfully, and away from her parents' harsh treatment, that same shameful feeling came rushing back to her every time she went to one of these events.

Luckily, she did not have to talk to Madame Richelieu for very long before the woman saw someone else she knew and excused herself from speaking with Eponine to go see her friend. As soon as she was alone, Eponine slumped against the cocktail table she stood next to and to soak up a few precious moments of being alone before Courfeyrac came along and forced her to talk to someone else.

When she looked up, instead of seeing Courfeyrac hurtling toward her, Eponine saw Enjolras calmly making his way in her direction. Eponine felt her heart flutter when she saw him dressed up in a suit with a red tie. His blonde hair was slicked back and he was intently watching her. When he reached her side, Enjolras pulled her into a hug and repeated Grantaire's assessment as he told her, "You look beautiful tonight."

"Thank you," Eponine smiled up at him, suddenly, inexplicitly nervous. This was _Enjolras_ for goodness sakes. They were great friends and here she was being tongue tied in front of him. She was also surprised that he was paying attention to her at all—usually at these events he was intently focused on working for the good of the museum and tended to ignore his friends until the event was over. "Shouldn't you be talking to all these museum patrons?" she asked teasingly as she gestured around the room, willing the butterflies in her stomach to die.

Enjolras cleared his throat awkwardly, but did not even spare a glance for his neglected patrons, "They can wait," he said still keeping his eyes focused on her, "I've been talking to them all evening," Eponine did not really know what to say to that so she just remained incredibly interested in the table cloth that she continued to lean on as an uncomfortable silence overtook them. Suddenly Enjolras blurted, "Do you want to dance?"

Eponine looked up at him shocked. She could not remember ever seeing Enjolras dance at one of these events. She reached up to place a hand on his forehead, "Are you ill?" she inquired, "First neglecting patrons and now wanting to dance?" As she pulled her hand away he grasped her hand and ran his thumb along the underside of her wrist.

"Please?" he murmured softly, still staring unabashedly at Eponine. All she could do was nod and allow him to pull her onto the small dance floor. He wrapped his arms around her waist and Eponine found herself placing her arms around his neck and then they were swaying to the music. It could not really be called dancing, but they were pressed up against each other and their feet were shuffling about. If Eponine had not been so confused and nervous she probably would have laughed because Enjolras, for all his charm and charisma, danced like a pubescent middle school boy who had never kissed a girl.

_Come to think of it,_ Eponine mused, _he probably __**hasn't**__kissed a girl_. She looked up at Enjolras and found him looking down at her. As their eyes met, his cheeks flushed a bit, but he did not break her gaze. They stayed that way for a long time—locked in each other's arms stealing glances from time to time.

Eponine wondered again why Enjolras was taking time out of his busy night to dance with her—it did not seem to be out of pity like Grantaire, otherwise he would have stopped a long time ago. But they had already been on the dance floor for multiple songs and it really was getting to be time for Enjolras to go back to wooing museum donors.

She sighed and pulled back a bit to look up at him. He glanced down at her questioningly, "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Don't you have things you have to do? You can't spend the whole night dancing away with me," she ribbed him. Enjolras frowned as he remembered his responsibilities. He dropped his hands from her waist and took a half step backward.

"I guess you're right," he sighed and reached up to gently brush her cheek before he bent down to press a soft kiss to her forehead, "Thanks for the dance," he smirked as he walked away leaving Eponine awkwardly gaping after him, wondering what had just happened.


	10. Things Unsaid

Enjolras did not get the opportunity to speak with Eponine for the remainder of the evening. While he was still talking to one last patron, he happened to look over the shoulder of the man and saw Eponine heading toward the door, supporting a very drunk Grantaire. Enjolras gave the most imperceptible shake of his head at the man's state of intoxication, but he did manage to catch Eponine's eye and she gave him a small, timid wave and he smiled in return as she disappeared out the door.

He sighed once she was gone. The evening had not gone quite as he had hoped. Eponine had been right though—the evening was supposed to be spent wooing patrons, not dancing. As Enjolras politely excused himself from man with whom he was speaking and went off to find Courfeyrac to see if he needed help overseeing clean-up, part of him wondered if maybe Eponine had actually just wanted to stop dancing with him. He had monopolized a good portion of her time. A twinge of disappointment begin to well in his stomach at that thought, so he quickly pushed it aside and strode across the hall to where he finally spotted Courfeyrac, curled up in a chair with Jehan reclining on his lap.

"Courfeyrac," Enjolras called as he neared his friend. Courfeyrac reluctantly jerked his eyes up away from his boyfriend and gave Enjolras a questioning look, "Do you two need me to do anything to help clean-up?" Enjolras asked, not really expecting to be given a task—Courfeyrac usually did not trust anyone besides Jehan to help him with the parties, even the clean-up.

As anticipated, Courfeyrac shook his head, "Nah, we'll probably just throw trash away and deal with everything else tomorrow." Enjolras could tell both boys looked exhausted. Courfeyrac's usually bubbly personality was noticeably flat and the way he was snuggled up into Jehan's side, made it look like he could fall asleep right then and not wake up for a week.

Enjolras nodded and reached out to squeeze Courfeyrac's shoulder, "Okay. Congratulations on the gala—it was excellent, some of your best work," he frowned as he surveyed the two boys, "Get some sleep," he told them to which they both nodded lazily so he just said goodnight and left.

As he turned out into the dark streets to walk home alone, since Combeferre, his flat-mate had already left some time ago to work on a paper he had due tomorrow, Enjolras found himself alone with his thoughts and for the first time, it was not something he relished. He had long felt Eponine, worming her way into his life and his heart.

After first it had terrified him—the day that he found he could not focus when she was not playing music at her desk indicating her lack of happiness, was the first time he had allowed himself to examine her place in his life. It had been when the hug they had shared that day popped into his mind later that he had felt his heart palpitate at the thought of her for the first time.

Enjolras had thought he was having a heart attack at first and had begun taking deep breaths to slow his racing heart. He had felt like Joly as he had begun worrying if he should be more concerned about the irregular operations of that muscle. He kept his fears to himself, but the palpitations had kept happening over the following several days.

The second time, it had been in the museum office, when Eponine had come skipping in the next morning. He had smiled at her in greeting and immediately he felt like he could not breathe.

The third time had been when Eponine bounced over to his desk to hand him some forms for him to sign and their hands brushed. He had blanched and looked up at her, eyes wide, mouth agape, as he felt his heart jump into his throat. She had just given him a curious look and asked if he was okay. Enjolras had only been able to stiffly nod, but it had been enough to appease Eponine, although she proceeded to give him curious looks from across the room for the rest of the day.

It was after that third time, that Enjolras forced himself to admit what the common denominator was in all these instances of heart abnormalities—Eponine. Luckily, when he realized this, it had been a Friday and he had been able to hole himself up in his room for the entirety of the weekend to sort out his conflicting emotions. What he discovered was that there really was nothing conflicting about them—he liked Eponine. Even though he had never liked anyone before in his life, he was rather sure of it.

He liked how she was almost as driven to help the museum succeed as he was and how hard she worked in everything, from the museum, to school, to protecting her siblings from her vicious parents. He liked how her dark childhood had not totally jaded her and that she was able to still laugh louder than any of them and find happiness in little things, like the silly stickers she had put up around her computer screen, or the funny cat shaped mug she drank tea from every morning. He liked her kindness toward everyone, especially her fierce loyalty toward their friends, such as how she always stood up for Grantaire when he got too drunk and Enjolras lost his temper at the other man. He also liked how her long ebony hair would get tangled around the pen she inevitably shoved behind her ear as she worked. He liked the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled at him. He had come to these conclusions all in one weekend and had come charging into the museum the next day, happy and excited that he had figured everything out.

But, then he never worked up the nerve to tell her—truthfully he was a little scared to do so. He had no idea how she would react or if she felt the same. He remembered how she had been in love with Marius and he was not even sure she was over that crush. So he had held his tongue. Then, over the past few weeks leading up to the gala, he thought he had caught Eponine sneaking him secretive glances across the room numerous times. He was not sure if he had imagined that Eponine was hanging around the museum office more often, so that the two of them often ended up being alone numerous evenings in a row, both working steadily at their desks, except for the occasional times their eyes met and they had hurriedly looked away.

Even if he had imagined those changes in her behavior, when he walked into the gala and had seen how beautiful she looked in her red dress, Enjolras had decided that it was time to do something about his feelings, but he had not gotten to verbally express himself, so he was still unsure of her reaction. But, when she had seemed so receptive to his minor advances, it had given him hope.

Now, as he reached his flat, he knew what he had to do. He sent Eponine a text asking "_Do you want to get breakfast tomorrow morning?"_ His heart soared, when she replied almost immediately in the affirmative and they made plans to meet at the café down the street from the museum. Enjolras was finally going to tell her flat out and get the answers he was craving.


	11. A Breakfast That Never Was

The next morning, Enjolras was up and anxiously getting ready far earlier than he needed to be. He forced himself to sit down at his desk and click through a litany of news articles to keep his mind off of his impending confession, because whenever he thought about what was coming; of what he was going to say to Eponine at breakfast, his heart started hammering, he felt nauseas, and his hands got all sweaty—none of which he found to be very pleasant reactions. He could only hope that the reception of his confession would be a positive one.

Just as Enjolras deemed it was a respectable time to be up and getting ready to go out, his phone beeped. Grabbing it, he saw he had a new text from Eponine and his heart began pounding in his chest as he willed his shaky thumb to move and open the message.

All of his nervousness came crashing down though, once he read the message, which simply said: _I'm really sorry, but I forgot I have to take Gavroche to the dentist this morning, so I'm going to have to cancel on you :(. Can we reschedule for later?_

Disappointed, Enjolras messaged her right back, assuring Eponine that it was fine and they made plans for the following Sunday, which, unfortunately, was the next available morning that they would both be free.

Depressed at the way the morning's events had turned, Enjolras plopped down at his desk and pondered what he should do next, because he really did not think he could keep this information to himself from the next week—he was worried that he would let it slip at an inopportune time. So, instead of using the morning to bare his heart, he used it to scheme and plan instead.

It was Monday afternoon and Eponine was rushing home from class, trying to make sure that she would have enough time to change and get back to the museum before her shift started. She had had a long day and by the time she made it to her front porch, she was frazzled and her nerves were wearing thin.

She unlocked the door and practically tripped over a bundle of branches with tiny, oval shaped, green leaves, propped up against her door. Grumbling under her breath about the stupid neighborhood kids, Eponine picked up the pile, intending to throw it over the porch and into the garden, but as she raised it over her head to chuck away, she noticed that it was tied nicely with a dark blue ribbon and there was a small card attached to the string.

Examining it more closely, Eponine was startled to see that the card read:

To: Eponine

_Acacia_

Having no idea, what the hell that could mean; Eponine took the stack of branches inside and deposited them on the counter, then went upstairs to get changed for work.

When she finally made her way back home, much later that night, Eponine had all but forgotten about the mysterious branches, as focused as she was on her disappointment that she had not been able to get a moment alone with Enjolras—she had so wanted to apologize in person for cancelling on him the day before, but everyone had been so busy in the party aftermath of new donors and patrons, that it had been a whirlwind of work, with no possible moment of down time.

It was not until she was throwing her keys in the bowl on the counter, that Eponine remembered the branches and the strange message attached. She grabbed the card with a frown, detaching it from the branches, and went to her room to search what the sender could possibly mean by "Acacia".

Typing the word in the search bar brought up pages and pages of pictures of the branches currently sitting in her kitchen. Eponine was even more confused at that, until she stumbled upon a link at the bottom of the screen entitled "Language of Flowers". It was on that page that she learned that giving someone branches of Acacia signifies "secret love".

"Is someone trying to send me a message?" Eponine mused as she turned off her lights and climbed into bed.

She hardly allowed herself to hope, but despite her logical thoughts, she fell asleep dreaming of a certain blond haired boy.

The next day a similar set of circumstances occurred. Eponine came home to a bouquet of strange, pale pink flowers sitting on her step, with a blue ribbon and a note just like the day before. Today, however, the note read "Almond". Going inside, Eponine ran to her computer and searched for Almond flowers. After a couple of minutes of going through articles, she discovered that Almond flowers meant "promise".

"So, whoever sent these, promises that they secretly love me?" she muttered, as she plopped down on the couch to think about this mystery. She knew who her heart kept telling her had sent them, but her brain was trying to hang onto its sensibilities, "No no no no NO; it was not him—that would be too perfect," Eponine said aloud, trying to silence her heart.

But as she thought about it, it really seemed as if her heart had to be right. There was no one else that Eponine knew who would ever think of using flowers to express their emotions, "Trust a boy stuck in the 1800's to know the language of flowers," she laughed as she finally gave up pondering the situation and went about her evening with a smile plastered on her face.

On Wednesday, Eponine raced home, hoping against hope that there would be another piece to add to the puzzle she was living. And sure enough, there were bunches of sprays of tiny purple flowers, propped up against her door. When she searched the name of the flowers, purple lilies, she found that they stood for, "first emotion of love". Eponine's heart soared at the implications the delicate flowers had—especially if they were coming from the person that she hoped they were.

On Thursday, Eponine worked at the museum in the morning, before she went to class. She had trouble concentrating on her tasks as she kept sneaking glances at Enjolras who sat directly across the room from her, furiously scribbling away at whatever he was doing. But, once or twice, she could swear she saw him peak up at her as well.

She blushed that night when she looked up the meaning behind the large pink flowers, with the strange pistil, a hibiscus that she had found on her door step, as they meant "rare beauty". She appreciated the sentiment, although she did not agree with it—Eponine knew she was far from being a rare beauty, but the thought that someone—that he—thought of her as such, was enough to warm her heart and make her feel like she was floating on air for the rest of the night.

Friday's flowers were called plumerias and they looked as if they could only be found in the tropics. Eponine marveled at anyone's ability to secure such exotic looking plants in France. She could no longer contain the hope she had been trying to suppress all week when she found out that they stood for "new beginnings"—she could only hope the mysterious flower sender would reveal himself soon.

On Saturday morning, Eponine was just leaving her house to head to the grocery store, when she stumbled upon, yet another bouquet, this time containing pale white flowers, that almost, but not quite, looked like daffodils. This time, she was surprised to find, the name of the flowers, jonquil, had a question mark after it.

Intrigued as to why that was, Eponine wasted no time in searching for the meaning of these flowers—the question mark's meaning became clear, and made her smile, when she realized these flowers meant "return my affection".

"I hope I do," Eponine whispered as she placed the flowers in a vase, lined up next to the others on her counter.

That evening, the entire group met up for a movie night at Courfeyrac's apartment. Somehow, Eponine ended up sharing the couch with Enjolras. The two bantered and teased for the majority of the evening, broad smiles splashed across their faces, bodies inching ever closer. The evening ended in the pair confirming their breakfast plans for the following morning, to many raised eyebrows from their observant friends.

Eponine woke up way too early on Sunday morning, excitement thrumming through her veins. She went on a quick run and as she was walking back to her home, she saw a shock of blond hair, hurriedly heading in the same direction. With a smile and a pounding heart, Eponine jumped into a neighbor's yard and ducked behind their fence to watch as Enjolras ran up onto her porch and left several large red flowers pressed against the side of her porch. Just as quickly, he was gone, looking in every direction worriedly, seemingly scared of being discovered. He did not notice Eponine in her hiding place and once he was out of site, she ran off toward her home, ignoring the angry shouts of the neighbors who had discovered her hiding in their yard.

She found the large red flowers had a tag identifying them as red chrysanthemums and when she researched it, she found that they stood for "I love".

Eponine felt tears welling in her eyes and her heart swelling with affection for the boy who had gone through such an effort to tell her how he felt—she could only assume he meant to reveal himself as the sender at breakfast—well she could only hope that. However, she had a better idea.

After some quick research and an even quicker shower, Eponine left with an hour to spare until she had to meet up with Enjolras.

At the end of that time, she walked into the café holding a long green sprig of ambrosia. Walking right up to where Enjolras was already sitting, she thrust the plant toward him without a word.

His eyes were wide as he wordlessly took the offering and read the card attached to the stem, which read "Ambrosia: love is returned". And when he looked back up at Eponine, Enjolras was smiling so broadly at her, Eponine thought her heart would burst, as she leaned down and kissed him.


End file.
